Hate myself for loving you
by so-damn-mishalicious
Summary: AU: Growing up as orphans Pietro Maximoff works at a dancer in a club at the capital of Sokovia to support his little sister and himself. One day he meets a client that might change his life forever [SilverHawk]
1. Chapter 1

Hate myself for loving you

 _SilverHawk AU for a friends of mine: Dancer!Pietro (22), little sister!Wanda (16), Sugardaddy!Clint (36). The sibllings have their powers but got a background change and were never discovered by Hydra. Clint is still an Avenger but does a lot of S.H.I.E.L.D. work which wasn't compromised. He isn't married and has no kids._

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to their respective owners, I gain nothing from this my the gratitude of my friend :P Englisch is not my first language so pls be kind but feedback is appreciated!**

The first time they met was at the club. Staging one of his usual performances Pietro caught his eye while he climbed the pole and could see over cheering crowd of men and women, desperate to get a little piece of him, waving bills in the vain hope he'd come closer. There he stood in the back - apart from all the loud madness of the audience - and simply watched him. Not moving a muscle the man observed every single move he made just like... a predator watching it's prey? The thought made him smile. He had always been one for danger so he winked cheekily at this mystery man, unknowingly starting their own little game. 

_Growing up in Sokovia was never easy - not with both their parents around and even less when he was suddenly alone, an infant in his arms, when he was barely 7 years old. The adults told him their parents wouldn't return, a sad glint in their eyes but unable to change anything. Orphans weren't uncommon in these times; the civil war demanding it's victims every day. So he did what he had to if they wanted to avoid being placed into one of the overflowing orphanages - the Maximoff siblings left their little hometown and went into hiding inside the slums of the next bigger city._

 _Most of his days could be divided into the same pattern: stealing (food, money, clothes, everything Wanda and he needed) and hiding (don't move, don't speak, pray that they won't find and take you, seperating us). Luckily his sister is a very quiet child from the beginning but they keep changing locations, encounter other children like them organized in gangs but in the end go their own way. The winters are harsh to everyone and sometimes he cries silently at night, when Wanda is fast asleep cuddled to his side, because he thinks they won't make it. But they do._

 _When he's around 13 they move to the capital of Sokovia - a loud, hectic city full of busy people and the perfect place for a thief like him. Not Wanda; she turned 7 recently and Pietro's gathering all the money he can get his hands on so she can visit a public school. It's wonderful to see how quick she can learn, his precious malinki sestreza being such a clever girl. Sometimes she shares what she learned on these days and helps him improve his rather rough unterstanding of reading. Math he does easily - he has to or he won't know which sum of money to collect each day to make their living._

 _Now that he's older, growing in body and height it's easier to get hired for some jobs. No legal ones of course but he doesn't complain. And recently he noticed that something else in his body has changed - that he can be very very fast if he wants to, his surroundings slowing down like time is nearly stopping. Pietro's fascinated and disgusted by it; loved and hated it at the same time. But it's useful to keep himself and his sister alive so he does what he's best in - he doesn't complain and hangs on._

Nearly two weeks pass until they meet again. The speedster had been a little disappointed at first but it was a changeable business, dancers and clients came and went faster than the nights going by so he paid it no mind. Following his weekly schedule he pulled through 1 shift behind the bar(mixing drinks, flirting with customers, watching the other dancers) as well serving some drinks to their VIP's (which involved more flirting and maybe a little groping from their side) before it was time again to get on stage. Just before he disappeared to the staff area a glimpse of purple caught his eye and he turned around, gazing intently at the crowd... but nothing. With a small sigh te turned back to the door - maybe he was a little more frustrated than he first thought.

Quicksilver's performance was a success again, just like every night. The crowd roared and cheered, chanting his name like a popstar and throwing their money at him which he gladly took. But as soon as he exited the flash light his smile fell and his tiredness showed deeply in his otherwise handsome features. He knew he made good money every night, allowing Wanda and him to live in a nice apartment without having to worry how to pay the next rent, but this whole thing... it made him sick. Every day, every night was the same a sluggish monotone blur of faces and colours and pure boredom. Pietro was bored out of his mind, his body and powers craving a challenge, the desire for excitement prickling in his limbs up to his fingers. But he couldn't, he just... he shook his head rapidly, angry at his own selfish thoughts.

 _/This is safe!/_ he told himself on his way to the small changing room the dancers used, _/this is what brings you and Wanda through the day and keeps you from living ob the streets again! Not some crazy other shit!/_. A shiver went down his spine; he'd never return to the streets - not over his dead body.

His hand barely touched the handle to open the door to the changing room when someone called his name and he turned around. The manager of this etablisment - a relatable suprisingly nice guy in his early fourties - headed towards him across the floor, looking agitated but not in a bad way. So the platinum blonde stopped and listened to his request and he was indeed a little startled: a customer requested a private dance by no one else but him. It didn't seem unusual but considering he was already off shift the client had agreed to triple the charged fee for this service. Holy shit... the normal price was not a small fee but thrice as much? Even with his shares to the club it should be enough to buy Wanda this red leather jacket she always looked longingly at when they passed the store (of course she denied it and tried to be more subtle but Pietro was a big brother after all. He noticed things!). A small smile appeared on his face.

"So some old man with too much money to burn huh? Please tell him I'll be there in 15... gotta change except he gets off on smelly business!"

His manager just huffed about his cocky attitude but he knew it was genuine - this was the man who had taken him in in the first place - and disappeared again to inform their guest of his arrival. So Pietro took a quick shower, changed into a new set of snidely fitting clothes before ruffling through his still damp hair. Enhancing his eyes with the barest hint of eyeliner he looked at this reflection and smiled satisfied. Yeah he was really looking good tonight. Turning on his heels he left for the more private rooms at the other end of the hall, wasting no more time. His manager threw him an exasperated glance when he rounded the corner to room 12.

"You know you're late aren't you? Sometime's you're such a diva" the smaller man snarked and Pietro huffed out a small laugh.

"Well what do you say: all good things take their time! You can't get something from nothing."  
Knowing arguing wasn't an option and they were late anyway the older man simply opened the door and shoved the speedster inside, closing it quietly behind him.

The interior of the room was classy but simple, tones of dark red and black dominating the furniture, light blocking curtains equally red and a small pole lit up in the middle of the room. His client sat in the dark leather chair at the opposite side of it, dressed in a nicely fitting suit and a small smile curled around the blondes lips when he recognized him - his mystery man had returned.

"Well well look who's back," he drawled, moving closer, his hips swaying with every step "I began to think you didn't like me anymore. Not a nice game to play Mister...?".

"Brandt. William Brandt. And believe it or not, the whole world ain't turning around you kiddo!" the brunette - William - answered, sitting comfortably in his armchair, his body not entirely relaxed, emitting some kind of dominance over the room. The older Maximoff knew to play by the rules - their money, their room, their decisions - but he was far from giving into it right now. He was never one to make it too easy. "Oh really? Guess that's still needs to be proven."

His voice thick with accent he dancer rounded the pole and took a tumbler and decanter of whiskey from the minibar. "How about we start this with a drink Mr. Brandt?"

The smirk on the others face suited him just fine, green-blueish eyes trained on him, a hand coming up to groom through the short brown hair. The grey three-piece suit complimented Brandt's body in all the right ways - that ugly grey-purple tie though, that one had to go. Oh and Pietro would make sure it would disappear...

"If I wanted a drink I wouldn't have waited for nearly half on hour to drag yourself here but went straight to the bar. So how about you get that sweet ass up the stage and work for this ridiculous amount of money?" a short nod to the client's left confirmed his suggestions that the black messenger bag besides the chair indeed contained his payment for this job and it was not a small one in the least. His manager probably had set and controlled the sum twice so there was no need to worry about this. The younger one wasn't swayed in the slightest - he tutted while filling the glass with a good portion of the fine alcohol and added some ice cubes, swirling the liquid and refraining from loosing his handle on the situation for now. "Impatient aren't we? But be assured everything will be worth your wait Mr. Brandt so get comfy and just enjoy yourself."

\- End part 1 -


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm useless when it comes to describing dance moves v_v so please deal with me..._

 _"Impatient aren't we? But be assured everything will be worth your wait Mr. Brandt so get comfy and just enjoy yourself."_

With measuring steps Pietro closed the distance to the older one, sitting down briefly on the arm of the chair and gently placed the whiskey tumbler into his clients hand. "Any wishes for tonight sir?" he smiled coyly, looking at the other through lowered lashes so he wouldn't feel threatened in his dominance through his raised position, "for the music I mean - it's your show so I'm in charge to make sure it's fitting your every wish."

William took a sip from the glass, savouring the taste of the beverage with a calculating look before he decided to not give into the teasing, "Well I think some classic rock will do.". The Sokovian considered his options for a moment - most clients didn't bother to really choose a song for the performance leaving it to the dancer to select a suitable one. The rest went straight for club music - heavy basses, changing rhythms, minimum vocals. But classical rock? Well he could work with it - he had to - and being honest to himself the unsual choice in music really didn't surprise him that much, his visitor seemed to be a unsual man as well.

"No problem at all, just give me a second," he rose from his seat, "accidently" brushing finger tips over the expensive suit fabric infront of him and went to the wall on the other side where the console for the music could be found. Pietro cocked his head slightly to the side while he flipped through the different menus, searching for the perfect track. It had to be sexy, a special nag to the whole thing but the rhythm shouldn't be too fast or too slow, something fitting to let the older man know he might be in charge of the moment but after all he ruled the stage. The show was completely on him, in his hands lay if this would be the best night of Brandt's life or well... he did sabotage a dance of his once but that guy (Strucker something?) had it coming being a major pain in the ass. A little lost in his thoughts the dancer suddenly stopped and his eyes flew over a title that brought a seductive smile to his lips, "I think I got one that you're gonna like Mr. Brandt!".

If the brunet said something it was lost in the first heavy riffs of the guitar of Joan Jett's "I love Rock'n'Roll". Yeah this was feeling good - he made his way to the pole, his hips rolling with the beat, the bass sending hot prickly energy through his body, urging him to move, bend, flex. Pietro took one last calming breath, reminding himself to stay in control of the special power hidden inside his body and grabbed for the metal bar, using it to pull himself up on the pedestal. Gracefully landing on his feet he surrounded it once before stopping right in front to face his visitor, arms up high over his head, his whole posture and visual screamed sin and sex. "Well we better get this party started, sir!" he disclaimed smiling mischievously and began moving to the beat. Feeling the small vibrations deep inside his muscles his hips barely grazed the metal behind him while he shifted in tune, all fluid seductive movements letting his body sway.

It was hilarious giving into this urge inside of him to never stop moving (go faster, longer, always wanting more) for a second time this night, adrenaline pushing his senses to a new high that the platinum blonde welcomed and simply let it take over, not caring for the time that flew by. Every fibre in his being was working now, helping him bend in ways only few others could, flexing his muscles during the movements under his tight clothing and thus making sweet promises of what could be. His arms were just as strong as his long legs, levering his body from the ground effortlessly, his tighs wrapped around the rod holding himself in place before artfully lowering him back down. His hands never ceased in their movements, enhancing his restless chase of getting a grip of the sexual tension in the room, fueling it even more by sliding over expanse of pale skin, over hard trained muscles, dipping under hems of clothing and caressing what lay underneath. His pulse hammered inside his blood, pushing him further and further, as he turned his head to his customer, flipping his white locks back in a wild movement and was rewarded - though the older man hadn't moved much he was grazed with a gaze you could simply describe as "eye fucking", dangerously sharp like the first time he saw him, as if he was ready to eat him alive - a hawk setting his eyes on a victim, playing with it for hours before ripping it apart. This shouldn't be sexy - Pietro was sure about this - but fuck he couldn't bring himself to care right now.

He twirled on the ball of his feet, then grabbing onto the hard metal again and circling it one, two, three times before landing in a perfect split on the cool ground of his stage. The song would soon be over he noticed - time for a "final touch".

Letting go of the pole and rising to his feet as the song slowly came to its end he flawlessy left the stage, a playful smile in place as he approached his client straight on, never breaking eye contact and put the barely touched whiskey glass aside before lowering down to his lap. The warmth of the other body seeping trough his clothes sent a pleasurable shiver over his body and well - he could tell that either Mr. Brandt hid a weapon in his pants or he was indeed happy to see him.

The last tunes rolled over them and he found himself face to face with the other man, looking into the grey (weren't they blue before?) eyes with warm breath tickling over his lips and soft stubble. His dominant hand lay gently on the attractively formed jaw and a broad grin fought his way to his face as he noticed the pretty strong hands on his behind. "Was this to your liking Mr. Brandt?"

He chuckled over the rough confirmation that left the others lips and slowly moved to stand up, the whole procedure somehow harder than it probably should be. They both stood and composed their outfits, so speedster noticed for the first time that he was a little taller than the other man. Somehow this created a satisfied feeling in his gut even if he couldn't point out why.

Like a spell being broken thee atmosphere had so suddenly changed from stimulating to... regretful to leave? Unwillingness maybe? But Brandt cleared his throat drawing his attention to him like a magnet. "Well kid at least they're right... you really know how to work that pole. You earned your share tonight."

All back to the business then - no problem he could do this as well. In the end it was probably stupid to think that there was like a strange connection... something different from his usual dances and the Sokovian refused to admit that it touched him in any way. As he reached out with a short shrug to grab the handle of the messenger bag now belonging to him, he found his wrist in a sudden strong but gentle hold and to startle him even more William placed a soft kiss directly over his fluttering pulse on the inside. Calloused fingers rubbed soothingly over his soft skin while he was caught in the intense gaze of the American again. "I mean it Pietro. You're a piece of art... I see forward to our next encounter."

Damn you heart didn't you just skip a beat at those words! The younger one denied this furiously but not finding the right words for an answer he simply nodded. The hold disappeared just like the mystery man and Pietro caught himself starring dumbly at the closed door even minutes after the other one had left. He shook his head and gathered the bag close to his chest. Trusting other people besides Wanda and his manager had always proved to be a mistake - and the last thing he needed now was trouble. Thinking of Wanda he cursed under his breath - he was supposed to be home an hour ago! Hastily he left the room, forgetting of this strange encounter for a little while. 

_He was around 16 when he realized they couldn't live like this anymore. They needed a safe, warm place to stay - something to come back to. His sister had recently discovered that she was different as well - moving objects with the power of her mind or creating smaller illusions to trick people - but it made her insecure and changeable in her moods, resulting in blasting all the windows in one of their hideouts when the now everconstant ache in the back of her head grew too strong. Pietro had always known that this day would come: they needed a place to stay with no fear of getting caught. They needed a home._

 _That was easier said than done. Both their papers were long over due and legally getting new ones was impossible at least for them. Also they had no save frequent income and who would rent a flat to 2 minors? Nobody as he found out very quickly, getting turned down at all possible places to find a decent shelter and it aggravated him to no end. Just as hard proved to be getting a legal job with sufficient payment, with the black market flowering under the circumstances of the neverending fights - making prices twice to thrice as high for certain things - and nobody was in a mood to give away more than necessary to avoid being stabbed in the back. That's how they had survived as well but it didn't make it easier to change their current life at all. But he had to keep trying._

 _In one of the quiet nights Pietro resigned to the fact that there was simply no chance he would be accepted to one of the normal jobs. There still was the opportunity to go to the red light districts - the blonde knew that people checked him out quiet often but the thought of those brutes touching him sent a cold shiver down his back. If he was lucky someone might hire him as a bouncer or maybe a waiter in the clubs there. Presenting the idea to his sister probably wasn't his best idea - she refused the whole plan immediately and god he hated himself for making her cry - but in the end she hesistantly agreed under the condition that he wouldn't sell his body and he declined her offer to help him raise the money. The last thing he wanted was to drag Wanda into this - she was supposed to get a better life than this and he'd move a mountain to make this happen._

"You're late!"

The blunt statement greeted him as the older Maximoff entered their flat and he sighed quietly while toeing off his shoes and putting his jacket on the wrack.

"Well it was a busy night at the club and something-" he answered truthfully but came to a hold in his answer. He crossed the distance to the living room and leaned, arms crossed, at the door frame. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep by now? You're having school tomorrow!"

His sister made a small sound - something like a huff to acknowledge he said something - but didn't bother to reason with the other. Her gaze was glued to a bunch of cubes floating in front of her face, surrounded by the same red energy that lit up her eyes in a bloody hue. She was rapidly getting better at this - Pietro had noticed that for a while - but he couldn't do anything to help her. Their powers were completely different just like them. So he decided to raid their kitchen for food and found some leftovers from the other day, putting them into the micro wave. It was his turn to shop, maybe he could do this tomorrow-

"So who is he?"

He gasped (gasped he said, Wanda would later dare to imply he had squeeked. Pff!) and turned around facing the raven haired girl now standing directly behind him. Lying was futile he knew with the eyes of his sibling boring in his soul but he tried anyway. "I have no clue what you're talking about sestreza... it was just a busy night and I had to do some extra work since we're short on staff right now."

He didn't want to think about this encounter right now. The teasing, this strange energy between them, how good it had felt to touch this otherwise foreign man. This was the last thing he needed right now. But one look was enough to state that the teenage girl didn't believe a single word he just said.

"Oh really? Guess you robbed a bank on your way bank then because there's a bag full of money in the hallway and it's not even payday."

Even on payday he wouldn't receive his loan in cash. The dancers and waiters kept a certain amount of the tips they gained during their shifts but never that much. Damn it... this girl was too clever for her own good.

"You're thinking too loud you know? Of course you can't lie to me, I know you ever since I was born. And such a feeble attempt... what are you trying to hide?" there was a tense silence between as he refused it reveal his confusion. Normally the older sibling would never bring home any of his "work" and she knew that very well. In the end Wanda surrendered their sort of staring contest with a exhausted sigh, "very well keep it to yourself then I can't - or better won't I could if I wanted - force you to tell me. But remember bolschoi bratjez: even you can have some fun from time to time.". Stealing some food of the plate the other had retrieved she left the room, muttering something about being tired and foolish thickheaded men.

Pietro snorted, shoveling food into his mouth. He wasn't thickheaded in this matter at all, he just wasn't one for believing in miracles. There was just no use of exaggerating - he was a orphan, a dancer in a club not some rich educated boytoy that would fit on Brandt's arm. Thoughtlessly chewing on his reheated meal he caught himself thinking of particular strong arms and hands and hid his face in his hands with a groan.

This was so going to be a pain in his ass...

-End part 2-


End file.
